Lingering Sorrows
by qwerty-kitties
Summary: COMPLETE - After the big Confrontation, things are better. But are there some feelings that haven't gone away yet?
1. Penance

_Well, here's something that I felt needed written, mostly as an epilogue to "Confrontation". We see Wanda's thoughts and feelings before that dramatic scene (in "Unspoken Confessions") and we kinda-sorta see how Cosmo feels during that tense night (in "Confrontation" itself). But was that the end? It kind of bothered me that Cosmo came off as being sorry, but willing to have things go back to normal once the confrontation was over. (Considering how hurt Wanda was about his behavior, I highly doubt it would be as easy as hitting a 'reset' button. Real life relationship troubles almost always have that awkward period afterward--you're not fighting anymore, but you're not comfortable just jumping back into the 'lovey-dovey' mode quite yet.) I felt the whole issue was kind of resolved, but there were still emotions and feelings lingering afterward. __Hence the purpose of this fic._

_Couple things before I let you go----It's short. It's only about 5 Word pages, which is I think the shortest thing I've posted here so far. I probably could have dragged it out, but by the time I got to the end, I thought I'd covered everything Cosmo would have been thinking. And, I'm **well aware** that Cosmo slips out of character in it. So there's no need to send a review saying so--I already know and have admitted it. It's REALLY HARD writing for Cosmo in first person, but I thought this style would be much more emotionally charged than third person. Besides, the whole point of this is to show his emotional state, not get his particular brand of idiotic speech down pat. I did try to keep everything simple, tho, so hopefully it could still be accepted as 'Cosmo thinking'._

_Cosmo and Wanda don't belong to me. But if they did, I'd have to give them each a big hug.__

* * *

**Penance** _

I'm sorry, Wanda.

It seems like I've said that about a million times in the month since that night you confronted me, and I'll say it a million more if you let me. It sounds so pathetic, compared to how I treated you. But I don't know what else to say. Every time I think about it, that's the first thing that pops into my head.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I wish I were smarter so I could write you a long, heart-felt apology, telling you how much you mean to me, and how grateful I am that you didn't just leave. You should have, you know. You don't deserve to be treated like . . . well, like the way I treated you. I'm your husband. I should love you. I should be thankful that such a beautiful, smart woman decided to spend the rest of her life with me. I should stand by your side, and protect you from attack and pain. But I didn't. I hurt you instead. You should have left. Why didn't you?

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

That night seems like so long ago, but every minute, every second still stands out so clearly and perfectly in my mind. I can still see the pain in your eyes when you asked me that horrible, scary question—_"Why don't you love me anymore?" _You said it quietly, like you were trying to keep yourself from crying. I'm crying now just thinking about it—my wife, my lovely, sweet wife thought I didn't love her anymore. In my stupidity, I didn't know why you thought such a thing then, but I know now. You thought I didn't love you anymore because that's how I was treating you. And I was so stupid I never saw it.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

You confronted me, and to my stupid, slow mind, it seemed to come straight out of the blue. I didn't understand why you were so mad over what I considered—at the time—'a few jokes'. It makes my stomach turn to think I was SO stupid I didn't see how mean I was. How hurtful I was. How . . . seemingly oblivious I was to your pain. I was killing you emotionally—crushing your heart, not to mention your trust in me—and I didn't notice. That thought chills me to the bone. It really does. I. Didn't. Notice. What kind of evil creature abuses his wife and NOT NOTICES?

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

You should have left. You don't deserve to be stuck with someone who is apparently so stupid he doesn't see when you're hurting. Especially when he's the one hurting you. You deserve someone better. Someone smarter. Someone who'll treat you the way you should be treated—like a queen. Why didn't you leave?

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

Stupid. I've heard that my entire life, and for once, I completely believe it. I am stupid. Stupid because I took the love of a wonderful woman and casually tossed it aside, crushing it beneath my shoe. And then I laughed in her face. Over and over again. I'm worse than stupid. I'm heartless.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I never seemed to notice the look on your face that appeared after one of my 'jokes'—the pained, hurt expression that just thinking about makes me now cry even harder—but each and every instance is etched in my memory, burned into my mind for all eternity. Knowing I am the one who caused such a horrible expression—not just once, but too many times to count—makes my heart hurt. How could I have been so blind? How could I have ignored that?

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I don't deserve you. I've thought that since the first day we met. I don't deserve someone so beautiful and smart and kind and loving. You've gotten into such trouble because of me. You've been so hurt because of me. I don't deserve you, and you deserve better. Maybe I should leave.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I'm weak. I probably should leave, but I can't. Because I love you. And I can't possibly leave you. Even now—in the middle of the night when my thoughts are at least somewhat organized, when I am able to think things through and understand just how unforgivable my actions toward you were, and I know, logically and responsibly, that the only course of action that would be best for both of us is for me to leave—I can't bring myself to actually go. I wish I could.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I'm scared. I'm scared that my stupid mind will simply forget about what's happened, and I'll hurt you again. I hope like mad that the horrible, pained look on your face will haunt me forever and keep me from saying or doing something stupid and mean, but I'm really, really scared I'll hurt you again. Maybe worse. Because I forget. Because I'm stupid.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I never could. But I did. Does that mean I'll do it again?

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I don't sleep much now. I can't. That night keeps creeping into my dreams, and you keep asking me that question that makes me break out in goosebumps, even though I wake up sweating. _"Why don't you love me anymore?"_ Hearing that come from your beautiful lips makes my heart hurt. Seeing the pain in your lovely pink eyes makes me want to burst into tears. Knowing that you really believed it makes me want to die. How could I have done that to you?

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

Worthless. Anything I can say about my actions is completely worthless. There is no excuse. No reasoning. My actions are my own, and no one else can or should take responsibility for them, even indirectly. I behaved like an insensitive jerk, and treated my wife like she wasn't important. How? How could I have allowed myself to act like that?

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

Stupid. Heartless. Worthless. Pathetic. That's me.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

How could you love me, even now, after all the things I've done, all the hurt I've caused? Please tell me, Wanda. I don't understand. Why don't you hate me? You should. I do.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I don't deserve your love. I've ruined it. Why would you so freely give it again? Aren't you worried I'll hurt you again? Aren't you scared of what I might say? I am. I'm terrified of what I might hear falling out of my mouth. I'm terrified to see your face change—the loving smile would drop first, and you'd look shocked for a second before you grimace slightly as the pained expression so familiar in my mind's eye settles into place. That expression follows me wherever I go, asleep or awake. I never want to see it on your beautiful face again—but I'm scared I will. You don't know how scared I am of putting it there again.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

You're so beautiful, lying in bed with your hair fanned out on your pillow. You look like an angel—a beautiful pink haired angel. I had forgotten how soft and smooth your hair was, like liquid silk. Watching it move was always a little hypnotic—it was so shiny and the color was rich and deep, like a pink ocean. But touching it . . . touching it was always something I absolutely loved. I could run my fingers through it forever and never tire of it.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I dare not do it now though, for fear of waking you. If you wake up and see the tears flowing endlessly from my eyes, not to mention the soggy mess my cheeks have become, I'm too worried you'd take me into your arms to comfort me. I do not deserve comfort, especially not from you, no matter how wonderful it would feel to be in your soft, warm embrace. Allowing myself to fall into your loving arms, to inhale your delicate smell—a smell that always reminded me of strawberries and daisies for some reason—would almost guarantee that I would simply forget all about this horrible time. Forgetting could mean that I might do it again. I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen. Never.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

We sleep in the same bed again, and it's both wonderful and terrible. Sleeping next to you, feeling the familiar heat from lying next to the woman I love, has never felt so amazing. I honestly cannot remember why I created a separate bed for myself in the first place, and now that we are together again, I can't imagine sleeping any other way.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

But, sleeping next to you also means I have to be very careful when the nightmares wake me. I've been having a lot of bad dreams since that night—the night of the Confrontation, with a capital C. I can't stop thinking about that question. The question that started it all. _"Why don't you love me anymore?"_ The dreams always start with you asking me that, but what happens next is always different. Sometimes I try to explain, but you won't listen and finally leave with tears streaming down your face. Sometimes, to my utter horror, I hear myself saying that I DON'T love you anymore and wish you'd go away. Sometimes Jorgen shows up and blasts me again and again for hurting you. And sometimes, sometimes I just stand there, looking at you helplessly, not saying anything at all. I think I hate those ones most of all.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

Does part of you still worry I'll hurt you again? That fear seems to be on my mind a lot lately, but do you think about it? You seem to be looking a little less sad since that night, but the shine in your eyes—the shine I never noticed had disappeared until that night, actually—seems uncertain. I think you're scared to open yourself back up to me. To tell the truth, I'm scared too. After what happened, after what I've done, I'm terrified of you.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I'm sure this sounds strange—YOU were the one who was hurt, after all, why would I be the one who's scared? But I am. I'm scared of how close you came to having your heart broken. Because of me. Because you gave your heart to me, the man you loved and who—supposedly—loved you. I hadn't really thought about how delicate a heart could be, and how easily it could be hurt—until that night. Then I knew.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I saw your heart that night. I saw it in your eyes, your actions, your tears. It was hurt, covered with a spider web of cracks that I had created with each and every 'joke' I said. One more harsh word from me and I think it would have shattered. I think you knew that too. That's why you were so scared.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

But, the more I think about it, the more I wonder. Were you scared that I didn't love you? Or that I did?

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

That night was a month ago tonight. Things are different now. Better . . . but different. It's kind of like we're dating again—shy, scared and unsure about how to act with each other. When we hold hands, it's strange—they fit together perfectly like they always have, but your grip isn't strong and confident like it was. You seem . . . almost shy.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

You seem more fragile than you used to be, and I guess it's because your heart's still healing. I'm trying my best to be strong for you, to protect you from anything that might hurt you while you're vulnerable like this. Including me. I will never allow myself to utter another negative comment to you, in jest or otherwise. I've abused your heart too much recently, and I am careful to be gentle and tender with you. I snap at Timmy when he tries to get me to make a mean joke about you, and now he is mad at me, but that doesn't matter. Only you matter. Only you.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I don't think we'll ever be the same as we were before, but I can only hope that you'll smile more when you feel better. I've always loved your smiles, and your laugh, and the way your nose crinkles when something strikes you particularly funny.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

I love to see you happy, Wanda. Please be happy again. Please show me your smile again. Please let me hear that loud, totally free laugh of yours that I love. Please crinkle your nose again.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

Please love me again, Wanda. I'll apologize until the end of time, and do anything you ask of me, just please love me.

_I'm sorry, Wanda._

Please forgive me, Wanda. Even though I shouldn't ask and don't deserve it, please tell me you forgive me. Even though I'll never forgive myself.

I'm sorry Wanda.

I can't say it enough. I can never say it enough.

I love you, Wanda.

I love you.

* * *

_I don't think I've ever typed "Wanda" so much in a single fic. Jeez._

_Why did I write this? Well, the more I thought about it, the more I thought that Cosmo had just come across as his typical dim-witted self in "Confrontation"--he 'didn't realize' what he was saying was hurting his wife, but felt sorry once she brought it to his attention--so I felt I did him a dis-service. I had delved so deeply into Wanda's emotions in "Unspoken Confessions", and just kind ofbarely skimmedCosmo's thoughts and feelings in "Confrontation". It seemed unfair. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that he would be really affected by how far Wanda must have been pushed in order to confront him like that--being married and involved with someone for nearly 10,000 years wouldof coursemake you familiar with your loved one's actions/moods/method of behavior, and I think even Cosmo would be able to recognize how hurt his wife was because of him. And, considering how sensitive Cos is regarding emotions--especially where Wanda's concerned--he would have been REALLY put thru the ringer about it. I think it would have been a real eye-opener for the green haired fairy--it showed him how fragile and delicate his wife truly is, and how important he is to her. Maybe it would change him, if only slightly._

_Or not. :P But I'd like to think it would be a learning/growing experience for him. There may or may not be a companion piece (a second chapter of sorts) that covers Wanda's emotional state after the confrontation, which is why the title of this piece is different than the main title listed. We'll see._

_As always, thanks so much for reading! Toss me a review, if you please. :)_


	2. Denial

_Well, THIS was a long time coming! Things have been NUTS around here lately--Cap and I are doing a lot of home improvements and they're keeping us busy from the time we get up in the morning until the time we go to bed at night--so I'm lucky I found the time and energy to finish this. I had actually startedthis not long after I posted "Penance", but I wasn't entirely happy with how it was coming out, so I let it sit. I re-read it today and found I did kind of like it, so I worked on finishing it. I'm not sure I covered everything I should have, but I think I gave a good overview ofWanda's emotional/mental state after such an intense confrontation. I'm thinking there's going to be one more 'chapter', one that deals with another little confronation between the two, where they REALLY connect and set things back on the right track to 'normal'. I've gotta let it simmer in the ol' noggin for a while, but expect plenty of angst. I seem to live for fairy angst. :P_

_Anyway, just so any blood-thirsty lawyers who might be reading this don't come after me, I must declare that these adorable little fairies do not belong to me. Pity, too. I would treat them so nicely and give them lots and lots of hugs and kisses and shower them with praise and affection. Cause I'm weird like that._**_

* * *

Denial _**

_I'm fine._

I may have come dangerously close to having my heart broken by the man I loved more than anyone else, but that's in the past. We talked it out. He's apologized and things can go back to normal now.

_I'm fine. Really._

There's no need to keep dwelling on such awful memories. I mean, really, what would be the point? There's no way to change the past, no matter how much we wish we could. What's done is done. It's over. It's been a whole month since things changed, and I have my husband back. That's all I ever wanted.

_Really._

He apologizes constantly now, no matter how many times I tell him to stop. Because it hurts. The pain in his voice, the tears in his eyes, it hurts and brings up painful memories. Memories I just want to forget. Memories I wish I could simply wipe clean from my mind.

_Fine. I'm fine!_

He's more attentive now than he has been in a long, long time. When he talks to me, his voice is soft and gentle. When he looks at me, his eyes never stray. When he touches me, his hands tremble. I tremble too, and I wish very hard that I could stop.

_Because I'm fine._

That's right. There's no way I'm still reeling from the emotional aspects of . . . the way things were. There's no way I'm afraid to open myself back up to him because I'm afraid he'll hurt me again. There's no way that my heart's been abused so much it has shut itself down in order to keep from dying. No way, no how.

_Because I'm Wanda, and I'm fine. I'm always fine._

Sure things are a little awkward between us, but considering what happened, isn't that to be expected? Besides, the 'rough patch' went on for a long time, and we kind of got used to 'doing our own things' for the most part. Now we're suddenly thrown back together. It's going to take some time to readjust. It's no big deal. It'll just take some time.

_Things will be fine._

I still love him, he still loves me, that's all that matters, right? Everything else will work out. We'll get over this awkward phase, and then it will be business as usual. No sweat. We've been through rougher patches than this before!

_And come out fine._

Okay, so maybe we've never been through something QUITE like this, but the principle's the same. A problem arises, we face it, and things go back to normal. Things always work out in the end. The hurt feelings and pain goes away, and life goes on. Life always goes on.

_Everything will be fine._

The hurt will go away. I just have to keep telling myself that. My heart will eventually stop hurting, and I'll stop trembling when my husband's near. I'll stop being afraid. It's really silly, when you think about it—me, afraid of my own husband? Especially now when he's being so kind and caring towards me? How ridiculous!

_Because things are going to be fine._

I just need time. That's what it really comes down to. I'm just . . . a little unsure about how to really act, that's all. Soon this will all be a distant memory. One that I'll be very happy to never spend another minute thinking about ever again.

_Soon everything will be fine._

I want things to go back to normal. I NEED things to go back to normal. That means he has to stop apologizing and looking at me with those big sad eyes and acting all somber and serious when I'm around. He's been different ever since that night and even Timmy's noticed. He doesn't joke around anymore, or act like himself. He's spending so much time worrying and fretting over me that he's forgetting about himself.

_But I'm fine._

Okay, maybe not 'fine' but I could BE 'fine' if he would STOP drudging up those god-awful memories! When he apologizes it's like ripping open a slow-healing wound and digging at the sensitive tissue beneath. Every time he says 'I'm sorry', it reminds me of WHY he's sorry, thereby bringing each and every hurtful comment, joke or insult to the front of my mind. My heart can't heal if I'm being overwhelmed with those hurtful memories a hundred times a day!

I'm— 

It hurts. My heart hurts so much. I thought it would be better once things were resolved, but it's not. It's worse. Because now it hurts for two reasons—for myself and for him. The dull, throbbing pain so familiar to me from the months of 'jokes' I can deal with, but this new pain is harder to handle. It's sharp, like someone has my heart in a vice grip and gives it a good squeeze whenever I see the pain in my husband's eyes. And that pain is there an awful lot. It's almost too much to endure.

—_fine._

I've never felt like this before in my life, and it scares me. I feel like I'm falling apart from the inside out. I'm numb. I feel like I have no control over myself. I'm afraid of my husband, unwilling to get to close to him or anyone else. I feel like I'm shutting down emotionally, and I can't seem to stop it.

I— 

I don't want to be like this. I want to go back to being the same Wanda I've always been, the Wanda everyone else depended on. The Wanda who would comfort others as naturally as breathing. The Wanda who never let anything stop her or keep her from protecting the ones she loved. That Wanda was happy.

But I can barely remember that Wanda. It was a lifetime ago, back when I was whole. Now I'm just a broken shell, a cheap imitation of that Wanda who's skittish and shy and awkward and afraid to let anyone—even her own husband—get close. I suppose I'm 'protecting myself', but if I'm shutting out everyone and everything I've ever cared about, what exactly is there that's WORTH protecting? I'm really worried that this isn't just a 'phase' or some temporary thing. I wish I could believe it was. But the whole fact that I feel nothing—NOTHING—when I'm with my husband is scaring me to death. The only tiny little spark of hope I have is the fact that I WANT to feel something for him. I want so badly to simply let go of my fears and inhibitions and love him fully and unconditionally again. And as long as that want is still there, there's still hope that I'll 'get better', right? 

_Then things will be fine._

I want to love my husband again.

I WANT to love my husband again.

I WANT TO LOVE MY HUSBAND AGAIN!

I'll repeat it a million times over, like some magic chant if it would help. Maybe it is magical, because when I think it, when I write it, when I say it—far from his ears, of course—I feel SOMETHING. Some small thing, deep within my chest flickers—like some dying ember that has been given a healthy dose of fuel. It warms me, and I feel alive again. I feel whole. I feel like the Wanda I remember.

_I feel fine._

But it never lasts long. Sometimes it simply goes away because I'm by myself and unable to sustain the fleeting ember for too long. And sometimes it's extinguished because I seek out Cosmo, eager to keep the feeling growing only to have him apologize almost as soon as he sees me. I wish he'd stop apologizing.

But he won't. It doesn't matter how often I ask him not to, or how many times he does it, he'll never stop. Because he hurt me. He nearly had a complete and total breakdown that night I confronted him, and in all honesty seemed to be more upset than I was over the whole issue. All because of me. Because he loves me and doesn't like to see me hurt, so the idea of being RESPONSIBLE for my pain must have been like torture. He honestly had no idea how hurtful he was being.

It sounds funny, doesn't it? I mean, how could you make those types of jokes and such at your wife's expense and NOT know you're hurting her? Seems impossible, right?

Not for Cosmo. That's just the way he is. Our entire relationship is filled with examples of times he has said or done something that affected someone else, and he never realized it. Hopelessly oblivious, that's Cosmo.

But it didn't matter, because I was always there to keep him in check. We always balanced each other out, he and I. When he got too emotional or confused, I kept him calm. When I got too serious or angry, he'd make me laugh. We fit together perfectly, our strengths and weaknesses complimenting each other nicely. It was a good system, and it worked for thousands of years.

_Things were fine._

Things are different now. We're both off-kilter emotionally speaking, and it's thrown our relationship out of whack. I was always the strong one, but after all that's happened, I've become weak. Cosmo is just as bad off, mostly because he's the one who CAUSED my weakened state and his guilty conscience is weighing his heart down. He can't be strong for me because he can't even be strong for himself.

_That's okay. I'll be fine._

As ashamed as I am to admit it, I'd be lying if I said I didn't get at least some small glimmer of satisfaction out of seeing him upset over his behavior—I'd been living with the heartache on a daily basis for MONTHS, so it seems only fair that he experience at least some of it first hand.

But— 

He's not 'upset' anymore. He's gone way past 'upset' and jumped into 'self-punishment' with both feet. He's dwelling on the whole issue for FAR too long. Yes I was hurt, yes he was the one who hurt me, but he's honestly seen the error of his ways and apologized. Over and over and over again. I've accepted his apology. I want to let it go and move on. I NEED to move on. And forget. Forgetting would be good.

_Then I'll be fine._

But he won't forget. He doesn't seem to WANT to forget. Why is he so intent on dwelling on it and torturing himself like that? Does he think I WANT him miserable? Because I really don't. There's a big difference between wanting him to feel a little of the pain I'd been struggling with and watching him beat himself up about it on a daily basis. I know Cosmo, and dealing with very strong emotions is not his strong suit. I worry how long he can carry these heavy feelings inside him. How long before the weight crushes him?

_Fine. Really._

It's ironic. It truly is. For all those months, I always wished he'd see how horribly I was hurting. I wanted him to see my pain, to understand my agony, if only for a moment. Now, he's seen it and is feeling that same pain, not out of empathy but because he's TREATING himself the way he treated me. He's turned his insults and hurtful behavior inward, on himself.

_But . . ._

He thinks I don't see. He thinks I don't hear. He thinks I don't know. But I do. I sometimes wish I didn't. But I'm glad I do. For his sake.

_I'm fine. I have to be._

It seems strange that I would worry about him when I myself haven't fully healed yet. I guess that means I really do still love him. I just wish . . .

_Because . . ._

. . . I wish . . .

_Because I'm Wanda. I'm the strong one._

I wish I could forgive him.

_And I'll be fine._

But will he?

Will WE?

* * *

_Well, of course they'll be fine. It's just gonna be kind of an emotional road getting there, that's all. I'm gonna let the big resolution scene tumble around in my head a while, so it's probably gonna be a while until that goes up. Not to mention the fact that we're so freaking busy lately that I barely have time to SHOWER let alone write. And showering tends to fall a little higher on my priority list. ;)_

_Oh, and before anyone yells at me for not posting the next part of "The Anti-Uncle", don't. I'm also letting THAT big finale roll around before I get to writing it. But I'll be sure to post it as soon as I finish, I swear. I'm not gonna let you all just hang there forever. Have patience!_

_As always, thanks so much for reading and be sure to toss my greedy ego a review:)_


	3. Resolution

_Whew! This was sure a long time coming. Cripes. Thought I'd never get this thing done. Honestly._

_So here we are, the end of the whole mess. For those just joining us, this is the last in the "Confrontation" storyline, and the stories go in this order--"**Unspoken Confessions", "Confrontation", and then "Lingering Sorrows". **You can find each of these stories in my profile. Just click and read. :)_

_For those coming back, meaning those familiar with my writing, I thank you all for your continued support. It's truly appreciated. You guys rock!_

_I do not own the little green and pink haired fairies in this story. Oh, how I wish I did._

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_**Resolution **_

"You don't love me anymore, do you?"

It was more statement than question and Wanda winced at the serious tone in Cosmo's soft voice.

"Of course I still love you, Cosmo. I always have."

They were in the bedroom of their secret castle at the bottom of Timmy Turner's goldfish bowl, and Wanda was struck with an extreme case of déjà vu. This conversation was eerily reminiscent of that night over a month ago. The night everything changed.

"But you're afraid of me."

Wanda uttered a shaky sigh. She was sitting on the bed, facing the wall. Silence hung heavy in the air, and the pink haired fairy could feel the weight of her husband's gaze upon her back.

"Cosmo . . ."

Her voice was trembling, which wasn't surprising considering the tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

"You are, aren't you? Tell me."

Wanda covered her mouth as a sob struggled to escape. The thought of lying passed briefly through her mind, a notion dismissed almost as quickly as it appeared. She couldn't lie to her husband, not now, not ever. Doing so wouldn't make things any easier, anyway.

"I . . . I'm sorry, Cosmo. I just . . ." She paused, her heart pounding heavily within her chest. "I don't want to be afraid of you, sweetie. I'm trying to get better . . ."

The bed springs creaked slightly as the green haired fairy sat on the corner of the bed behind his wife. He sighed softly, and Wanda could imagine him running a shaky hand through his hair. It was a nervous habit that he had had ever since they had begun dating, and the fact that she knew him so well caused a warm flicker within her chest. She smiled.

"I'm so sorry, Wanda."

Her smile dropped just as the warmth in her chest died. Snuffed out by yet another of her husband's apologies.

"Cosmo—"

"I'm really sorry, Wanda!" he whispered harshly, the bed shaking slightly as he spun around and leaned toward her. "I don't know what else I can say or what I can do to make it up to you, but I'm really, really sorry!"

"I KNOW you're sorry, Cosmo!" she cried, spinning around to face him. Her tears had returned as the last reign on her self-control snapped. It was time to tell him. He had to know. "PLEASE stop apologizing! I can't take it anymore!"

"But—" Cosmo's face was a mixture of confusion and shock.

"I know you're sorry about what happened, sweetie," Wanda continued, forcing her voice into a softer tone. "I know you feel bad. But when you apologize . . . it hurts me." Cosmo's eyes went wide.

"Hurts?" he asked in a shaky whisper as tears appeared in the corners of his large green eyes. "I'm hurting you again?" Wanda shook her head as she laid a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Not you, sweetie," she said softly, offering him a small smile. "Not directly, anyway. But, you see, when you apologize, I remember how bad I felt. And it makes me feel bad again. And then I see how upset YOU are about the whole thing, and I feel even worse. I don't want you to continue to punish yourself about it. It's over. Can't we try to move on and put it behind us?"

Wanda locked eyes with her husband, searching for a sign, some small flicker of the man she married. The jovial, happy-go-lucky fairy who was always ready with a smile and laugh when she needed them most. The cheery, happy fairy who was quick with a tickle or joke when he thought Wanda needed to laugh. Because Cosmo always had a special talent for making Wanda laugh, no matter how upset or sad she felt. He had told her once that she could sometimes be so serious, he worried she'd get so lost in her thoughts she'd actually disappear! So he'd make her laugh, and she'd instantly feel better. She always felt better after a good Cosmo-induced bout of laughter.

And boy, could she use a good laugh right about now. She couldn't even remember the last time she had laughed—a REALLY good one that started from the tips of her toes and tickled the top of her head. One that sent tears running helplessly down her cheeks. One that made whatever was bothering her seem insignificant. Yeah, one of those would feel absolutely wonderful right about now.

But the more Wanda searched her husband's eyes, the more sadness crept into her heart. Tears were still streaming down his cheeks, and he pulled away slightly, out of her grip. He looked confused and hurt.

"You want to forget about it," he said, pulling himself off the bed. "Right?" Wanda shook her head quickly, almost automatically.

"No, not necessarily forget . . ." she began, but paused as she thought. Wasn't that what she really meant? Wasn't 'Let's move on and put it behind us' simply a nicer way of saying 'Let's just forget it ever happened and go on with our lives'? Hadn't she—well, truth be told, hadn't they BOTH dwelled upon this a heck of a lot longer than what was truly necessary or even healthy? She doubted that 'forgetting' would truly be that simple, but what exactly was 'remembering' it doing for either of them except making them both miserable?

After a silent moment, Wanda sighed and nodded slowly.

"Yes," she said quietly, lowering her head to stare at the fidgeting fingers in her lap. "That's what I want. I just want to forget this whole horrible thing ever happened and go on with life."

Silence permeated the bedroom, and Wanda could feel Cosmo's gaze bore into the top of her head. The rapid beating of her heart sounded very loud in her ears.

"I don't."

Wanda jerked her head up quickly, her mouth hanging slightly agape in her shock.

"What?"

Cosmo's gaze softened as he went to one knee before his wife, placing his hands very gently over hers. His eyes were wide and shiny, and Wanda gasped at the emotion she saw in them. It was so strong it was practically emanating from the little green haired fairy in waves, and it was an emotion she would not have expected.

It was fear.

"I don't want to forget, Wanda," he whispered shakily, his tears returning. "I can't!"

"Why not? Sweetie, what are you so afraid of?"

Cosmo looked down for a second, gently caressing his wife's soft hands with his thumbs. When he looked back, the fear in his eyes was more pronounced.

"Hurting you again. Wanda, I'm so afraid of hurting you all over again if I forget about this. I don't want to hurt you, and I'm so ashamed of myself for doing it once, I . . . I just couldn't live with myself if I did it again. You mean so much to me, you and your happiness, and if I ever hurt you again like I did before, I'd . . . I'd . . . well, I don't know WHAT I'd do, but I couldn't stand it! So I can't forget, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much I'd like to. Because if I forget, I might hurt you again."

"But Cosmo, beating yourself up about it every single minute of every single day isn't going to change what happened," Wanda said as she pulled one of her hands free and placed it on his cheek. "And you don't have to think about it all the time in order to learn from it and keep it from happening again. What's done is done. Try to put it out of your mind." Cosmo was shaking his head.

"Wanda, you know me," he said softly, a weak smile curling one corner of his mouth. "If I forget about it, it's most likely completely gone."

"'Most likely' doesn't automatically mean that it IS," she pointed out, offering her own half smile. "I have a feeling that this particular . . . incident will never completely fade from either of our memories." The green haired fairy shook his head again.

"I'm not sure I want to take that chance," he said quietly.

"Sweetie, you're never going to be happy if you're continually punishing yourself over this." He shrugged slightly.

"Your happiness is more important than mine."

"But Cosmo, I'm not happy," she said, pulling her other hand out to place on his other cheek. "I can't BE happy if you're not. YOUR happiness is very important to me, and I hate seeing you so sad and upset. It makes my heart hurt to see you so unhappy."

Tears were streaming steadily down Cosmo's cheeks, and his body shook momentarily with a muted sob. The pain and sadness in his eyes were almost too much for Wanda to bear.

"Tell me what to do," he whispered harshly. "I don't know what to do Wanda! I'm so scared and confused and upset and I have no idea what I should do! No matter what I do, I hurt you!"

"You have to let it go, honey," she said softly, yet firmly. "I know you're afraid of repeating this whole thing, but believe me when I say that dwelling on it really isn't helping anything. You don't necessarily have to forget, but trying so hard to NOT forget is almost worse. Do you understand?" Cosmo's head shook back and forth slowly in her hands.

"No, I don't. Isn't it a good thing that I don't want to hurt you again?" Wanda smiled lovingly.

"Of course it's a good thing, sweetie, it's a wonderfully thoughtful thing. But by dwelling on this fear so much, you're not giving yourself a chance to do anything else. You're spending so much time and energy degrading yourself for your actions that you've completely forgotten to live." He offered her a confused look.

"I don't understand."

"Time doesn't stop, sweetie," she said gently, caressing his cheeks with her thumbs. "It's been well over a month since we had that confrontation, and things need to move forward. By continuing to dwell on things, you're not allowing yourself to learn and grow from the experience. In a sense, you're still stuck in that night, feeling the same pain and guilt over and over again. That's not good for you, emotionally speaking. You need to try and forgive yourself and have faith that you'll remember this enough to keep from behaving the same way later."

The two fairies sat silently for a moment, their eyes locked. Slowly, Cosmo raised his hands and gently grasped Wanda's wrists, pulling her hands from his face. He wasn't crying anymore, and a thoughtful expression had replaced the pain and confusion from before.

"Forgive myself," he repeated softly, almost as though he were talking to himself. "Do you forgive me? Can you?"

Wanda's heart thumped madly within her chest. There it was, the question she hoped she'd never hear, but expected nonetheless. She herself had wrestled with this particular query during the countless sleepless hours before she had confronted him, and still wondered about it since that night. She knew in her heart that the answer would—eventually—be 'Yes', but was it really as simple as that? Right now she didn't think she could honestly tell him such a definite answer, mostly because—in her mind—it would be like saying 'Hey, you treated me horribly, but that's okay, don't worry about it!'. The truth was, it WASN'T okay, and she DID still think about it, no matter how many times she told herself not to. Yes she knew he felt awful about how he treated her, but that didn't mean that his actions simply erased themselves from her memory in an instant. His hurtful words still crept up in her dreams, and that familiar ache would return to her heart, taking its good sweet time fading long after she'd awoken.

It would seem that Cosmo wasn't the only one dwelling on the past.

"In time," she said finally, making sure to lock eyes with him so he wouldn't misunderstand. "I love you Cosmo, and I will forgive you, of course I will, but it's just going to take some time, that's all. Healing takes time." Her husband sat quietly for a moment, as if contemplating her answer.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked softly, shaking his head slightly. "Anything at all? If there is, please tell me. I'll do it. No matter what." Wanda offered him a genuine smile.

"The only thing I can think of that would really help is for you to stop being so hard on yourself," she said, brushing some errant hair from his face. "I can't heal if you're acting . . . well, so un-Cosmo-like. I know you feel bad about how you acted before, and I appreciate your worries and concern, I truly do. But please try not to dwell on it any longer. Please Cosmo. For me." He looked unsure for a moment before uttering a heavy sigh.

"All right, Wanda," he said slowly, getting to his feet before her. "I'll try. I still feel bad, and don't think I should just pretend it never happened—"

"I'm not asking you to," she interrupted, shaking her head quickly. "I know that this isn't something that can be simply forgotten or ignored, no matter how much the both of us would like to. But you can remember it without letting it have such an emotional hold over you. Can you do that?"

"I'll try," he answered softly. "For you. I'll try to be better."

"Thank you sweetie," Wanda whispered as she stood and pulled her husband into a tight embrace. Her heart rate quickened, spurred by the warmth and gentle pressure of her husband's arms around her waist. The tiny spark within her chest flickered again, and this time, remained lit. "I love you so much, Cosmo. I don't want you to be sad."

"I love you, Wanda," he whispered back, nuzzling his face into her shoulder. "I'm so sorr—" He stopped himself with an almost physical jerk. "I mean, I don't want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you more than anything and I want you to be happy." She laughed softly.

"I want us BOTH to be happy, Cosmo," she said, giving him a tighter squeeze. "We have each other, and we have love, and those are the two most important ingredients for happiness in my book! All we need is a little time and things will be better. You'll see."

"I hope so," Cosmo whispered, nodding slightly against her shoulder. "I really hope so."

_**-X-X-X-**_

Wanda opened her eyes and sat up slowly, casting a quick glance at the bedside clock. 2:20 AM. It had been almost an hour since the emotional scene with Cosmo, and the pink haired fairy shook her head slightly in an attempt to push the fog from her mind and remember just how she had ended up in bed, asleep. She glanced to her right and discovered her husband's side of the bed empty.

Okay, scratch that. How did she end up in bed, asleep and alone?

After swinging her legs to dangle over the edge of the bed, Wanda replayed the interaction with her husband in her mind. It had been an emotional but much needed discussion, and the heavy feeling that had been weighing down her heart recently seemed much lighter now. Hope blossomed within her, and she truly felt that a re-connection with her husband was close at hand.

She frowned as a thought nagged at her, deep within her mind. Something was . . . well, not exactly 'wrong' per se, but 'off'. She glanced behind her, at the side of the bed that was still empty. The sheets were lying smooth and neat, just as they had when she had made the bed that morning. The pillow was still fluffed and sitting perfectly in place.

THAT'S what was wrong. Or 'off'.

Cosmo's sleeping habits had been one of the most difficult things she'd had to get used to when they were first married. Simply put, he was a 'roller'. If he was lying on his belly, he would take his pillow and practically roll it into a ball and tuck it under his chin. If he was on his side—which wasn't often, Cosmo wasn't generally a side-sleeper—the rolled pillow was set under his jaw. On his back, the 'pillow-ball' ended up right in the nape of his neck, tilting his head back at—what looked to Wanda like—an extremely uncomfortable angle. The position usually didn't last long, because his tilted head meant his mouth was left to drop open, allowing his snores to escape unfettered. Wanda—not at her best when woken suddenly by her husband's snores—would deliver a light slap to his chest to get him to roll over, which he would, taking his crumpled pillow with him. In the morning, his pillow always resembled a mushy, misshapen blob. And this didn't even touch on the tangled mess he turned the sheets and blankets into on a nightly basis.

But right now his side of the bed was pristine. Not a wrinkle in the sheet, not a dent in the pillow.

Cosmo hadn't been to bed at all tonight.

Wanda's frown intensified as she fast forwarded her thoughts to the last thing she remembered. She asked him to ease up on himself, he promised he'd do better, they hugged and—

"_I need to be by myself for a few minutes. I'll be back in a little while."_

Wanda nodded to herself as her memory returned. Cosmo had left to do some thinking and Wanda had climbed into bed to wait for him. She had intended to stay awake until he returned, but the emotions of the night, not to mention the late hour, had taken their toll and she must have fallen asleep. It actually wasn't very surprising when she considered all that had happened earlier.

So now she knew why he wasn't there. But where was he? Was he in Timmy's bedroom? In another part of the castle? Had he—heaven forbid—gone home to Mama Cosma?

A chill ran up Wanda's spine at this last thought, and she grimaced unconsciously. If he had gone home to be with his precious Mama, there'd be fireworks in Fairy World tonight. You betcha.

A faint 'clang' floated to her ears just then, and two things flittered through Wanda's mind in an instant—Cosmo was still in the castle, and there was no confrontation with Mama Cosma in the pink haired fairy's near future. Thank goodness.

Lifting herself off the bed, Wanda began to float toward the doorway. Halfway there she paused and looked back at her bedside table, where her wand was resting. After a moment's consideration, she continued out into the hallway, leaving her wand behind. She saw no need to take it with her.

Wanda floated downstairs and headed toward the kitchen. The 'clang' she had heard earlier was the unmistakable sound of two steel bowls clattering together, and the entire downstairs was dark except for the light pouring through the open doorway of the kitchen, so that must have been where Cosmo was.

But what on earth was he doing in the kitchen at 2:30 in the morning?

The question was shocked from Wanda's mind by the sound of shattering glass, followed by a familiar voice hissing, "Aw, nuts!"

Sticking to the shadows in the adjoining room, Wanda peeked around the corner of the doorway into the kitchen. The countertops were a mess, with flour and spilled milk splattered everywhere. One of her large cookbooks was open, sitting on the island in the middle of the room. Green hair bobbed up and down behind the island, and after the fourth bob, Cosmo finally stood up, holding a small hand broom in one hand and a dustpan with the remains of whatever glass had broken in the other. As he walked to the garbage bin, Wanda got a good look at him. And felt even more confused.

He was still dressed in his pajamas, but they were dusted with flour. His shirt was wet from his chest to his belly-button, and a large dark stain practically covered his right thigh. For one terrifying moment, Wanda thought it might have been blood, but since Cosmo didn't seem to be limping as he walked back to the island, or in any pain whatsoever, she dismissed it. Once back at the island, Cosmo tilted his head slightly to look at the cookbook, and Wanda noticed a small smear of flour on his left cheek.

She smiled. And noticed the little flicker in her chest grow just a wee bit bigger.

"Okay, where was I?" Cosmo asked himself softly as he ran a finger down the page in the book. "Flour, check . . . milk, check . . . eggs." He stopped and glanced around himself, searching. "Eggs . . . eggs . . . where . . . oh yeah. Fridge." A quick trip to the fridge and a few seconds later, Cosmo was back at the island with a carton of eggs in his hand. "Eggs. Okay. Two eggs."

Wanda watched as Cosmo pulled the first egg from the carton and turned to the large steel bowl on the far end of the island. His face took on an expression of such intense concentration, a safe cracker would have been jealous. His very first attempt at cracking an egg met with success . . . technically. The egg DID open, but Cosmo over-estimated the amount of force necessary to crack the shell, resulting in a slippery, stringy mess oozing from between his fingers. The green haired fairy grunted in disgust as he hurried to the sink to wash his hands.

The second egg he was taking no chances with. He gently tapped the shell against the edge of the bowl, creating a tiny crack in the surface. Smiling, he placed his thumbnails into the crack and began to pry the egg open. Four seconds later he was back at the sink, washing his hands again.

Ten minutes, seven tries, and three more trips to the sink later, the two eggs Cosmo needed were in the bowl and he was ready to mix. He pulled a handheld mixer from a nearby cabinet and approached the bowl, his face set with determination.

"Okay," he muttered, reading the page in the cookbook again. "'Mix thoroughly until smooth.' Right. Mixing. No problem."

Before Wanda's unbelieving eyes, Cosmo turned the mixer on at its highest speed and lowered the spinning beaters into the bowl. The pink haired fairy closed her eyes tightly, in anticipation for the great splattering mess that was inevitable. She heard the beaters skitter off the sides of the bowl and . . .

Nothing. The sound of the running beaters never wavered.

After a few seconds, Wanda opened one eye a tiny crack and peered into the kitchen. It was still clean—or at least as 'clean' as it had been when she first arrived. Cosmo was hugging the bowl to his chest, his face set in grim concentration as he whipped the batter within the bowl to a smooth consistency. Wanda's eyes opened fully and she stared at her husband in slack-jawed shock.

Three minutes passed, and all the while Cosmo meticulously mixed. Once satisfied with his job, he placed the bowl back onto the counter, and let go. Then he began to pull the beaters out. Wanda placed a hand to her mouth to hide a startled gasp.

He didn't turn off the mixer first.

The response was both predictable and spectacular. When the still-running beaters left the thicker part of the batter, they sent globules of thick liquid flying in all directions. Cosmo was splattered with the goopy mess, and the hand holding the mixer jerked in his surprise. It knocked against the side of the bowl, causing it to roll slightly on its side, toward him. In his flustered attempt to quickly right the bowl before it spilled his entire night's work all over the floor, Cosmo pushed forward with the still-running hand mixer. He had apparently forgotten he was even holding it.

An angry clattering sound filled the kitchen as the beaters made contact with the beveled bottom of the steel bowl, causing it to vibrate and shake on the counter. A great wave of brown batter spewed forth then, and for a split second, Wanda lost all sight of Cosmo's face.

Once the wave had settled, the batter-dipped fairy slowly pulled the mixer from the tilted bowl, and slid the power switch to 'Off'. He sighed, and ran a hand down his face before uttering one word.

"Crud."

From her spot in the doorway, Wanda looked over the mess in the kitchen. Batter had splattered everywhere, and her husband looked like some demented Easter treat—'Chocolate Covered Fairy'. The warmth in her chest grew quickly, and Wanda did what any loving wife would have done in that situation.

She laughed.

And laughed.

And for variety, laughed some more.

And it felt GOOD. Never had a laugh felt so good to Wanda. Her toes curled and the top of her head tingled. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes and she held a hand to her chest to keep her heart from breaking through. It was beating hard and fast, spreading the warmth that had began as nothing but a small fleeting ember, but was now as hot as the sun. No a hundred suns. It filled every part of her, making her laugh harder.

It was life. After all this time, she finally felt alive again.

And whole. She was WANDA again and not simply some cheap imitation.

Cosmo's head jerked toward the doorway as his wife walked in, still laughing and wiping at the tears on her cheeks. His face flicked quickly from surprise to confusion and back again.

"Wanda!" he cried worriedly, raising his voice to be heard over her laughter. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"N-No Cosmo," she giggled, struggling to control herself. "You didn't wake me." A fresh bout of laughter seized her then, and she clutched the island countertop to support herself.

"Oh." Cosmo watched her for a moment before a small smile curled the corners of his mouth. "What's so funny?"

Wanda laughed harder. Was he kidding?

"Wh—What are you doing?" she stuttered, finally gaining control of herself. The occasional giggle still seized her, but they were easier to stifle. Cosmo sighed, a dark blush burning his cheeks.

"I was . . ." he said quietly, gently placing the mixer on the counter. "Making a cake. Or trying to, anyway." Wanda offered him a gentle smile.

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Sweetie, it's almost three in the morning." He shrugged.

"Upstairs, you said something about ingredients and being happy, and that made me think about chocolate cake, because it has ingredients in it and you really like it," he explained as he righted the bowl and moved it aside. He wouldn't look at her. "So I thought I'd make you one. The slow way, because things usually taste better that way instead of being poofed up. I thought it would make you happy." He paused. "Or happier at least."

Wanda watched as he ran a finger through a puddle of batter on the counter.

"You were going to make me a cake?" she asked softly, his finger never wavering. "Just to make me happy?" He nodded slightly before lifting his head with a startled jerk.

"Oh, jeez! It wasn't supposed to be a bribe or anything!" he said quickly, his face filled with anxiety. "I know that might be what this looks like, but I never thought that I could just 'make everything better' by doing one nice thing for you. I swear Wanda, that's not what I was thinking at all!"

"Calm down, sweetie," Wanda soothed, placing a gentle hand over his. "I believe you. If that was the case, you would have done this a lot sooner, right?" Cosmo's brow furrowed as he contemplated this.

"I-I guess so," he said quietly, lowering his head again. "I just . . . I never wanted to do something that seemed . . . I dunno. Fake. I mean, I always wanted to do something for you, ever since that night, but . . . I always thought that it kinda felt like I was trying to MAKE you forgive me or something. I never wanted you to feel like you HAD to forgive me just because I did something nice." He paused before looking up at his wife, offering her a questioning glance. "Did that make sense? It kinda made sense in my head, but sometimes when I say things out loud it sounds weird." Wanda nodded, a small smile on her lips.

"It made perfect sense, sweetie," she said as she walked around the counter to stand next to him. He turned to her and smiled as she took both his hands into hers.

"Good," he said with a soft sigh. "I was a little worried for a second."

"And you were right," she continued, drawing a slightly surprised look from her husband. "We needed to be in just the right frame of mind for anything you did to have its fullest effect, and immediately after our confrontation, when both of us were in a very vulnerable emotional state, was not the right time. Emotional healing can be a slow process, but right now, tonight, I think we are in the perfect stage for closure." The familiar confused look was back on Cosmo's face.

"Closure? But a little while ago you said—" Wanda placed a gentle finger on his lips, a loving smile on hers.

"I'm not afraid anymore," she whispered as tears trickled down her cheeks. "For the first time in months, you've acted like Cosmo again. MY Cosmo. The sweet, child-like, adorable fairy I fell in love with all those years ago. I hadn't seen him in so long, I had almost forgotten what he was like. But I missed him. I never realized just how much I missed him until tonight. When I found you in here, making a cake just for me, you reminded me just how much I love that green haired guy."

"But I never finished your cake," Cosmo said shakily, casting an eye over the mess of the kitchen. "I goofed it up." Wanda shook her head, her smile never wavering.

"But the whole fact that you were down here so late, doing everything by hand instead of magic means so much to me already, sweetie," she said, placing her hands on his cheeks to lock eyes with him. "Because it truly is the thought that counts. Knowing that you truly love me and would go out of your way to do something just to try and make me happy is more wonderful than a thousand chocolate cakes. No, a million!"

"Really?" Cosmo whispered, his eyes shiny. Wanda nodded, tears filling her own eyes.

"Really."

"Does that mean you still love me?" he asked, his voice thick and uneven. "And you'll always be with me? Forever?" The pink haired fairy released his cheeks and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close for a tight hug.

"Forever and for always," she whispered into his ear, smiling widely as he wrapped his arms just as tightly around her. "For as long as you're My Cosmo, I'll be Your Wanda. I promise."

"I'll always be Your Cosmo," he whispered, his body trembling with muted sobs. "I promise I'll never say or do anything mean to you ever again. Never. I promise!"

Wanda smiled as she held her weeping husband tightly, her own tears falling fast and free. The bizarre quality of the entire scene humored her—her kitchen was a mess, it was nearly three in the morning, and they were both covered with chocolate cake batter, crying like babies. Talk about unexpected.

But.

There truly was nowhere else she'd rather be. She had found her husband again—her TRUE husband—and had honestly never felt happier.

Slowly, the emotional tidal wave withdrew, and the two fairies began to calm. They shared one tender kiss before pulling apart slightly.

"I'm sorry the cake didn't work out," Wanda said softly. Cosmo shrugged.

"It's okay," he said as he looked over the kitchen. "I'm sorry about the mess." It was Wanda's turn to shrug.

"It can be cleaned."

"Should we do it now?"

"Do you have your wand?"

"No. Do you?"

Wanda shook her head.

"Should we do it the slow way?"

"Somehow I doubt that cleaning all this mess the slow way will be much fun. Besides, I feel all sticky," she replied, looking down at her chocolate batter stained nightgown. "I'd really like to wash up." Cosmo nodded.

"Me too."

A mischievous smile curled the corners of Wanda's mouth.

"Wanna do THAT the slow way?" she asked slyly, making Cosmo's mouth drop open.

"WANDA?" he cried, floating closer to her. "I can't believe you just said tha—RACE YOU UPSTAIRS!"

The green haired fairy took off like a shot, with a laughing Wanda close behind.

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

_Yeah, the ending probably could have been better, but I didn't want to drag this out any longer. It's already 12 pages in Microsoft Word, and besides, I didn't think there was anything else that really needed to be said. It's apparent that C&W will be okay from this point on, it's all about seeing HOW they returned to being 'okay' that mattered._

_I've got the next chapter of "The Anti-Uncle" started, and know where I want to go with it, but I can't seem to get into a good enough groove to write it, darn it. I think I might be burned out on it for now. I'm going to try and write something completely different to see if I can kick my brain back into gear. Maybe putting something else down will help make finishing "TA-U" seem a little less daunting._

_As always, thanks for reading. Toss me a review to let me know what you think. :)_


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